


A Favourable Message from Shamash

by Megkips



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megkips/pseuds/Megkips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What god went by you in the night that you look so pale and tremble?” Enkidu asks, knowing well that there is only one reason the King of Uruk ever awakes in the middle of the night.</p><p>“I dreamed my death,” Gilgamesh replies in hushed tones.  “That I died not once but three times, in a land far from Uruk and ruled by men more capricious than the gods.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Favourable Message from Shamash

All of Uruk sleeps under the starry sky, safe from the desert beyond the city walls and blessed by the gods with such a magnificent place to call home. From the Temple of Ianna the sweet smells of flowers, sandalwood and sacred incense still drifts through the streets. The palace of Uruk - built of fine alabaster, accented with precious jewels, lapis lazuli and gold - gleams in the moonlight, a beacon of the city’s magnificence. Yet within this blanket of peace and security, Gilgamesh stirs from his sleep.

Beside him, Enkidu still dreams, undeterred by his friend’s sudden jolt. It takes Gilgamesh one, two, three shoves to awaken Enkidu, who sleeps like a stone, and longer still for Enkidu to sit up and look at Gilgamesh with bleary eyes.

“What god went by you in the night that you look so pale and tremble?” Enkidu asks, knowing well that there is only one reason the King of Uruk ever awakes in the middle of the night.

“I dreamed my death,” Gilgamesh replies in hushed tones. “That I died not once but three times, in a land far from Uruk and ruled by men more capricious than the gods.”

“How did you come upon these deaths?”

“I was called to the realms of men from far away, a place in isolation from even the dark underworld of Ereshkigal. I should - I was - long dead and my very being was pumped by a heart that passed magic, not blood, through my veins. For this, I was bound to the man who summoned me and I was told to fight for his glory as well as mine. I was told that there would be six others to defeat - six other so called servants of master magicians whose craft was what called me down to the realms of men - all for one prize.

“The prize I was to fight for - called the Holy Grail, said to grant the heart’s desire of the one that reaches it - was something I claimed I already owned in this dream. All of this dream was through my eyes, but I did not move my limbs nor speak the words that came from my mouth - I was a passing spirit, trapped in my own body.

“Being filled with magic instead of blood, I could perform feats in combat that even I could not believe, watching from within myself. I could summon all the world’s weapons to me and fire them from on high, as an archer shoots arrows from a wall. 

“In the beginning, I was annoyed at the magician’s presumptuous nature for calling me forth, but I agreed to serve him and his desires for reasons even I do not understand. There was another man in his service - an apprentice, who commanded another servant in this war in order to help this magician win the Holy Grail - that was far more interesting. I do not mean to say interesting as in a man I would sit and drink with, sharing stories and acting as we had fought beside one another as we do, Enkidu, but interesting in that there was something severely wrong with him. He was a man who had not known passion, who ignored desire, who simply ambled through life without embracing it. In my dream, such behaviour intrigued me and I made it my mission to breath life into him, to make him embrace desire and enjoy the entertainments of life.

“While this occurred, I observed the other competitors that had been called forth to take place in this fight. Two others were kings of faraway places, two were warriors, one a madman and the last an assassin. None of them matched me, and it amused me to allow myself great disadvantages so that they might pretend they could measure up to my skill. They were powered with magic the same way I was, but that was the beginning and end of similarities.

“The fights were tedious, occurring only because our respective masters wished them to. I was content to fight only once, against the one who was strongest out of all of them, but instead I found myself thrust into battles that were of no competition or consequence. When I was not made to fight, I wandered the future and remarked at how dull it was, how grey the world had become, how no music filled the air of this city and how all men stared at the ground as they walked. It disgusted me then - it disgusts me still - and it made me want to tear down the world if only to rebuild it as it should be, as it is now.

“I digress. In this dream, as the other servants died, I had many conversations with my master’s apprentice. Slowly, he embraced his true self, a hideous self who found delight in suffering. For this, he rewarded me with honesty. He told me one hidden rule of this competition, that all servants must die to allow the Holy Grail to grant wishes, and to that effect I would be commanded to kill myself upon my victory over the other six.

“I am horrified at the thought, because I know that in that dream I could indeed be commanded in this way, for this competition gave all masters three spells that gave absolute orders to servants that could not be disobeyed. Any remaining affection I had for my master disappeared then and I looked upon my master’s apprentice to determine what was to be done.

“What unfolded was a routine intrigue for any palace - my master’s apprentice killed my master, having embraced the fact he enjoyed himself most when seeing others suffer. My master’s murder brought this man joy, joy he had never experienced before and joy I had brought to the surface of his being. This man then became my new master and we regarded each other as equals. We worked in tandem to engineer greater sufferings for those that remained in the competition and while I did not enjoy them as he did, I took delight in seeing his face so full of pleasure, knowing it was I who was responsible.

“There were two battles after this - I will not give details of them, they’re irrelevant - but in the end it was myself and my new master that achieved the great prize that I was summoned to fight for and commanded to win at any cost. In taking the cup, a great black mud poured out, blacker than the soil of the Tigris and Euphrates when it floods, and all of the evils in the world flowed from it. I drowned in that mud, as did my master and the entire city where this battle took place, and yet I lived. When I surfaced from the mud, I was gifted with flesh, powered by a heart that pumped both magic and blood through my veins. My master lived too and our partnership continued.

“Such actions disgust me to consider, but ten years followed and we endured each other. I needed magic to stay on the Earth, and my master provided. In this process, even I became a part of his entertainment, as he was content to let me wither until the point where I might as well disappear from the Earth, leaving behind a body and nothing more. I had become entirely dependent on him.

“I experienced each day of those ten years in this dream, feeling the loathing build up for this man as well as myself, that I permitted him to have this power over me and that I had allowed myself to rely on another just so I might live in a world I loathed.

“Eventually, the Holy Grail reappeared and the contest for it began anew. It remained in the same city and I thought to compete for it again. Ten years in the future made me find it more loathsome with each passing day and increased my desire to change the world around me, so it might remind me of home.

“To that end, I participated in this war not as a servant, nor as a master, but as a third party who could manipulate all of the others. I cannot say what I did, as after this war began and I evaluated each team of master and servant, events passed in the blink of an eye, rushing me forward until I felt sharp pain overtake my body.

“I died three times in quick succession - once atop a great mountain by a woman who called herself a king and who I had encountered ten years before, the second time by children who could fire swords as I did and for my third death, I was swallowed by shadows so powerful that I could not hope to escape them, and in turn they ripped me apart.”

“It was when I was swallowed by the darkness that I awoke, trembling and full of fear, for whatever god has sent me this dream means me some harm. Of that much I am certain, as there is no other reason I would I sit here, scared like a child during a storm.”

Enkidu listens until Gilgamesh finishes speaking and feeling his friend’s eyes upon him, is at a loss for words. He starts to speak seven times, but finds himself stopping, for what is there to say to such a dream? Finally, he says, “Gilgamesh, not even I can understand what you have told me. It is strange, stranger than the dreams the gods have sent you before, and to even try and interpret it is a task too great even for me.”

Gilgamesh frowns, his hands playing idly at the blankets. “But a dream so complicated must have meaning.”

“I am certain it does, but I do not have the wisdom to know its true message,” Enkidu replies with a soft voice. “Perhaps your mother might understand these visions.”

“She might,” Gilgamesh says, staring pointedly at the fabric beneath him. “I will go with the morning sun to seek her counsel, before the rest of Uruk awakes, and I will understand this dream.”

***

Gilgamesh walks out of the palace of great walled Uruk when the first rays of the sun peak over the walls, announcing that a new day has come. The city is still silent, but now the hooting of owls in the distance have been replaced by bright and cheerful birdsong. While the birds welcome the morning, Gilgamesh walks through the streets, careful to wake no man. He walks until he reaches the Egalmah Temple, the palace of Ninsun, and with hesitation, he enters it.

He ignores the great decorations of the temple - the statues of lapis lazuli, the paintings on the walls, the great gifts placed on display from the treasury - and continues to the innermost room where Ninsun dwells.

“Ninsun, the wise and all know--,” he begins, then corrects himself. “Mother. I come here to speak with you and to ask for your wisdom, for I have dreamed a great many things in my life, but none so strange as the dream I had last night. I awoke Enkidu to gain understanding of this dream, but he could not even begin to comprehend its meaning.”

Where there is nothing, Ninsun appears, as youthful as she was when Gilgamesh was a child with a sweet face, long black hair and pale skin. She looks at him for a moment, then instructs him to sit down. “Tell me your dream.”

Gilgamesh sits on the floor, crossing his legs and waiting for his mother to do the same. “I dreamed my death,” Gilgamesh says, once she is sitting across from him. “That I died not once but three times, in a land far from Uruk and ruled by men more capricious than the gods.”

A second time, Gilgamesh speaks of his dream, and for a second time he finds himself terrified of its contents When he finishes, he looks to the goddess Ninsun, the wise and all knowing, his eyes mixed with fear and hope.

“I see,” Ninsun says after a long silence. “That is a long and complicated dream. Enkidu was wise to send you here so that I might understand it.”

“Then it has meaning?”

“When you dreamed this dream, you experienced all within your own body, and yet when you spoke and acted, it was not of your own violation. This body you inhabited was your second self, a perfect double who is the culmination of all you have done and all you will do. He is your legacy made flesh, a spirit held in realms far from that of Ereshkigal, who might be called upon to the realms of men to do their bidding. He is a creature of spirit, of belief, of magic, whereas you are a creature of flesh and blood.”

“A copy of me,” Gilgamesh says, and his face screws up in disgust. “A copy of me to be ordered around by lesser men for petty games. Why then am I shown these things? For what reason does my second self presume to send me his life on this earth? In my dreams I experienced ten years of life, day by day, and I became dependent on other men so that I might do so much as exist.”

“I am not you,” Ninsun replies, “I cannot answer you that question.”

“Nor can I,” Gilgamesh admits, and a smile tugs at his lips. “He’s cannier than I am.” He then pauses, smile disappearing. It drops all pretense of pleasantness, and the faint tone of sorrow colours his words. “There is one other matter that disturbed me about this dream that I must ask you about, now that I understand its true nature.”

Ninsun inclines her head and Gilgamesh continues. “Enkidu was not beside my perfect double as he walked the earth. You said that this second self is the culmination of all I have done and all I will do - should Enkidu not be a part of that? Is he not vital to the legacy I leave behind? There was a memory that my second self had where Enkidu departs, and in every moment of those ten years there was a missing piece to my second self’s very being.”

Before responding, Ninsun considers her next words carefully, for she understands her son’s perfect double all too well. So not to reveal the harsh road ahead of her son, whose fate she now knows from his second self, she says, “Enkidu is a part of your legend, and you a part of his. But in the contests you described, one cannot summon two great men in tandem, and so your second self was called to the realms of men alone.”

Gilgamesh takes a moment to absorb his mother’s explanation and then nods, finding it satisfactory in all ways. “I see,” he says, “And I am grateful that you could understand these visions of the future - a future that will never truly be mine.”

Ninsun rises from the floor and Gilgamesh copies her, equalling her elegance in such a simple action. “Thank you, mother. I can rest easy again with this knowledge.”

“Go,” Ninsun says, smiling, “There are a great many things that you must do now, since the sun has risen and Uruk is awake.”

Gilgamesh withdraws from the innermost room, his head held high and spirits restored. He leaves the Egalmah Temple, paying its treasures as little mind as he paid them upon entering the temple’s walls. Once on the streets of great walled Uruk, he marvels at the simple splendour of hearing his city so alive, seeing it so full of colour, knowing every cornerstone of every building by heart. His second self experienced a dull world, a world devoid of such delights, and for a moment, Gilgamesh pities his double for his his ten years in the realms of man and his three deaths.


End file.
